Sunlight and Shadows
by Inked-Pawprints
Summary: Russia x Reader ; "I run my hand along the tall grass as I walk down the moss-splotched stepping stones, breathing in the sharp scent of herbs and wildflowers. Everything has been reborn; leaves reach for the sun, petals strain to catch the morning light. " / Oneshot / Russia x reader insert


_ is you...and for those who _really_ don't know, this is in 1st person and so the  
'I' is you, too.

This is my first submission on here, so please don't judge to hard!

xx my dA is ShadowMoon-Wolf, if anyone was wondering. As always, reviews are more than welcome ;D 3

x/x\x

Stepping out into the shivering air, I looked around, taking in the heart-stopping, breath-taking scene. The day is the colors of the earth from a distant star; bright and blue and beautiful, layered with the gorgeous green of new leaves. The sunflowers in the small garden out back have finally bloomed, a riot of yellows cupped around seed-freckled faces of black.

Spring. The time of year when I get to see _him_.

I run my hand along the tall grass as I walk down the moss-splotched stepping stones, breathing in the sharp scent of herbs and wildflowers. Everything has been reborn; leaves reach for the sun, petals strain to catch the morning light. It seemed almost impossible to believe the scenic view in front of my eyes; I still remember how the snap of Fall's fangs brought forth a brutal winter. Winds like knives and color-bleached snow made the goings impossible to traverse; and yet, all of the crushing season had been erased like a waking dream when the first trees began to bud, pale pinks and timid yellows against the warm brown of a trunk. It's amazing that even the towering winter gave way to this fragile season named Spring, the time of peacefulness.

My feet hit the soft earth as I jump down from the pebbled stones, sinking into the dirt. I continue on my way, stopping here and there as I meander down this well-worth path. Bird calls float back and forth on the breeze which toys with my (h/c) hair, their songs soft and lovely and sweet. I don't mind, but I wish that my hair would actually stay down instead of looking like a newborn chick's fluff. It looked alright this morning before I left, but I know from experience that it will certainly be…interesting after the wind's touch. Oh well.

I vainly try to rake my fingers though said hair, just to find out that it is beyond saving, already tangled and a (h/c) mess. Huffing out a sigh, I continue on my way, stepping clear of any small flowers pushing their way out of the dirt. I've always loved the flowers, the way they would move in the ballad of the breeze, the ever-changing colors as they shifted with the seasons. From the deep rich purples of summer to the warm, fire-flecked reds and vibrant hued yellows of autumn, they were beautiful. It's such a perfect place here, with the large house surrounded by evergreens and flowers, ever changing as the seasons exhale their breath into the landscape.

This clear morning with subtle hints of another gorgeous day, this place with the night sky that overflows with crystal cut stars, it's something I could never imagine leaving. Just like him; I couldn't as much rip my heart from my chest than leave the best thing in my life.

If you asked me why I loved him, I wouldn't be able give you an exact answer. It's not something you can describe in a sentence, or rhyme, or trembling line in a song. It's only a feeling.

Maybe that's why. _Maybe_ it's because of this emotion that I am still waiting for him. Stupid, really, if you think about it. Love…it's a synonym for heartbreak and want and a sea of splintered dreams. I'm sure at most people don't view it how I interpret the word; I'm positive they understand love as fluff and kisses and words whispered at night into the other's ear. A word that means the world when spoken.

The grass itches as it scrapes against my thighs when I come to stand at the edge of the tree line. I absent mindedly slap away the offending stalks and skip down to the enormous tree in the middle of the color-soaked field. It's an old tree, with gnarled branches like the hands of old men, stiff in the joints and ravaged by infinite years. Either ways, its steady enough and I don't hesitate to start climbing.

I pull and push my way up the tree until I'm a good five, ten, twenty feet above the stunning flowers below my dangling feet. I reach a particularly nice spot in the tree's branches which cradle my weight like arms, and I lean back against the smooth bark, inhaling the warm air and promises of a good summer. It's very quiet up here, above the birds and world's worries, and it gives me time to think about him and try to crack the mystery of why I am still here.

My thoughts drift back to the days when I first met my silver-touched blond, me being innocent enough and asking why all the others were so scared of him, so intimidated by his presence.

I got a good enough answer, too. His reply was quiet, but I understood enough to know that he had always been alone, and maybe being an introvert was the reason no one ever wanted to know what he could really be like: warm and friendly and happy. I had felt pity for the tall man, even back then, and I wished that I could be the one to cheer him up, bring a smile to those cold features. Even if it was for a moment, I just wanted to see him enjoy life. I figured that if I was going to try and make him see how enchanting life was, I better get to know him a tad bit more. Every day from then on, I always made a point to say hello; a hug on good days and a mere nod on the bad.

And before long, he was calling me his Sunflower and asking if I wanted to become one with Mother Russia. Naturally, I flipped out and stuttered a reply of rejection. I mean, give me credit. Become one with Mother Russia? As if, even if the phrase wasn't creepy enough! I do remember, however, when his face fell, and from then on out I swore I never wanted to see that broken frown again.

Sighing, I close my eyes and enjoy the friendly warmth of the morning sun on my face. For all my thoughts, every one of them ended in the same word: _love_. And I don't understand.

I can feel the word form on my lips, the way it would sound if shaped by my voice. Still I remain silent. I've never really felt this way about anyone. Yes, I've had crushes and a few dates, and I might have liked a few of them better than the others, but none of the boys had ever made me feel this way. Not like this, aching with the relentless longing for him. I can't imagine how it would be like to not see those strong shoulders hardened by wars and experience, or never again glance up at those gentle hazel-blue eyes. It would be impossible to live without his memory, let alone himself.

Even more, I've gotten too many warnings laced with poison from Belarus, his dear, _dear_ sister, to even take them seriously. So I think I'll keep waiting here for his return, seeing how nothing can truly phase me anymore. And besides that, I owe it to him to wait. He was there for me when I fell like a bird from a stone,crashing and spinning down in a riot of emotions. Why should I not return the favor? I know the war he is fighting right now may be long, but it can't last forever. It can't.

He was so kind to me, and I'll always remember that. When I was first dissolved by the allies, it seemed as if I could only understand the world though a blurry haze of depression and anger. What had I ever done, aside from lose another war? He was there, though, to keep my heartbeat steady and have something to live for after I lost my citizens, my family, the things I was proud of…

After all that, he took me in. He told me it was going to be okay, that everything would be better in the morning with a new dawn, a new day to live, a brighter tomorrow. With nothing else going for me, I believed him, took his promise and held it close to my heart. He was right, of course- it was going to end up perfectly fine. And ever since that day, I've been living here, with him and his Soviet Union. The other countries are very polite and fun to be around, so it's no problem getting along with them. Although, when I brush sleep's lingering fingers from my eyes, it's not them I want to see. It's him.

Russia.

Ivan Braginski.

_**Love.**_

The day has become brighter and warmer, lulling me into a peaceful drowsiness. The tress converse in the wind, branches rustling and leaves fluttering like tiny dancers. It's so pleasant, with the gentle sun lighting my face and the temperate day with its cloud-dotted sky. I shift, settling back farther into the tree, placing my hands behind my head. I can feel my heartbeat through my light jacket, a quiet _thump, thump, thump _of a reminder that no matter how much I wanted to be with him, I was still here. I let my mind go dark for a few moments, lapsing back into solitude. And I wished and wanted and missed.

My mind doesn't get far into the quiet darkness of solitude before the sound of feet snaps my thoughts back to the present, making my heart suddenly crash in my ears, a frantic beat of stalked prey. No one knows where this tree is, my tree, our tree. This is our place; no one should ever be here.

Snapping my head around, I stare at the ground. And don't believe my sight.

It's him…my Ivan. The one I would wait for past when forever ends.

And then that wonderful smile lights up his features, half-hidden by the pale scarf. And everything is fine again, all the stars aligned and the moments before he was here seem dull and dark and dreary. I never really knew how much I missed his face until now.

"Are you going to come down and meet me, my sunflower?"

My voice is breathless and I answer back. "Y-yes! Of course! Give me one moment, and I'll be right there!"

I half the time it took getting up climbing back down to the earth. I rush into the waiting arms, and crush myself into his jacket._ Everything will be okay._

Something meets the top of my head as I link my hands around Ivan's back- his lips? I'm confirmed when I feel my hair gently move as a smile appears, and I hug him tighter. This is all I will ever need, the arms around me and my hands clenched in his jacket, and I push my head farther into our embrace. Inhaling his perfect, heady scent, I realize that he is is all there is to my world. Nothing is more important than Ivan, and I am perfectly happy to let it stay that way.

Tilting my head upwards, I catch a glimpse of those wonderful eyes full of emotion before my lips are whisked into a kiss, warm and perfect. I don't understand how everyone can write my Ivan off as a cold, brutal person. It's not him. It was never him.

Breaking for more air, turn my head and slide my eyes closed, again leaning into his chest.

"I love you, Ivan."

"Ne magU zhIt' bes tebyA… Ti Ochen' nuzhnA mne, _. LyublyU tebyA vsem sErtsem, vsEy dushOyu."

I know enough Russian to understand his words, and my cheeks blaze with a crimson red.

"I love you, all of that and more. Я тоже тебя люблю, Russia."

Smiling, he catches my lips for another kiss, and we stand there, two people lost in a world of belonging and sunlight.

And this is the translation for those of us who don't understand Russian :] Like me!  
"Ne magU zhIt' bes tebyA… Ti Ochen' nuzhnA mne, _. LyublyU tebyA vsem sErtsem, vsEy dushOyu." = "I can't live without you...I need you so much, _. I love you with all my heart, with all my soul."

and then . "... Я тоже тебя люблю, Russia." Means I love you too

Me and the words (c) Silver  
You (c) Your face, Prussia (he owns your vital regions)  
Hetalia (c) to Hidekaz Himaruya


End file.
